


Cherry Possession

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Multi, richard put his hands on the teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8031334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: Richard discovers another way to make his exchange with Satanico. Kate gains a sort of boyfriend and a new roommate inside her brain. Seth is tired, confused, and pissed off. Scott's not much better off. The only thing that matters anymore is that they're all in this for the long haul, and they've gotta stick together or die trying.





	1. Selkie Wife

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be long, sort of canon divergent, there's going to be a lot of mind fuckery, and the general stuff you expect from this sort of show. Don't worry, it's a long read, but it's gonna be a good one.  
> For the record: Kate's eighteen, because she was 19 in the movie and who knows what in the show, but here I am making a disclaimer because, well...this show.  
> Also, in case it's not obvious; I flip for mythological parallels.

_You don’t have to do this, you know._

_Oh. You again._ Richie lifted his head, opened his mouth. Whenever she spoke to him, it ached like copper wire cutting into him.

_I’m always here, Richard._

_Okay, but what do you want_ now? Richie clicked his tongue against his teeth, drumming his fingers on the bed. _Seth’s mad at me, you know. Because of you._

_Joseph is always mad at something. His heart is just lashing out. He’s not important right now, Richard. I need to talk to you._

_About what? And make it quick, you’re giving me a fucking headache._

There was a laugh then; he did not hear it so much as he felt it. It twanged in his body like a struck piano wire. _Oh, Richard. I want to be free._

_I know. You’ve said. And…and I want to help. Really, I do. But I don’t understand…_

_You don’t want any more blood on your hands._

It wasn’t a question. Richie sighed. _No._

_Then take the knife and walk away._

_But—_

Before he could protest, he felt the faintest idea of a hand on his chin, tilting it up. She was standing in front of him again.

_Set me free, Richard._

_I don’t want to kill anymore!_ Richie protested. _If there’s another way, what is it? What do you want?_

 _I want the innocent,_ she promised him, her hand reaching from his chin to his hair, smoothing it back with a fond, maternal smile. _One way or another, Richie. I need innocence to survive. To be free._

_That’s so fucking cryptic, if you could just—_

She kissed his forehead and suddenly he was blinking, staring at the stucco walls of the hotel room with the heavy weight of understanding throbbing between his temples.

“Fuck,” Richie mumbled into his palm, rubbing it along the side of his face. He pulled his wallet out and yanked the remaining billfolds from it, pressing them into Monica’s hand.

“Go,” he said, “before Seth gets back and says we have to do something stupid. Go see your son. And, uh—buy your daughter a new phone.”

He was expecting her to flee without another word, but she nodded and patted his hand. Something in his wound tensed and flexed. “I will. And thank you.”

He watched her leave and lifted his hand up, undoing the bandage. The eye that shone back at him, big and wet, was one he didn’t recognize. Something in it plucked at his heartstrings the way a piano hammer would hit the wire, sending a single trembling note up his spine. When he met those eyes, he would know.

When the eye blinked and left a gaping hole in its place, Richie went into the bathroom, dumped some more iodine on the wound, and wrapped it up as it smarted, screaming under the cloth bandages before he settled in on the bed to wait for Seth and his sweet potato fries.

…

It was going to be okay, Seth promised, ruffling Richie’s hair in that fond, affectionate way he hadn’t done in ages. His touch even lingered long enough for Richie to lean into it a little. It was all right Richie had let her go, because they’d be over the border soon enough, and he had a new idea, yes he did, and he was going to get things done quick, so Richie had to finish his fries and come with him.

“And finish your fucking burger, you need to eat,” Seth said, licking his thumb and wiping some blood off of Richie’s cheek. Richie smiled, thin and wan.

“Worried I’ll bleed out?” he said, flexing his fingers. Seth grumbled.

“Yes, idiot,” he said. “We’ll find a doctor in El Rey. It’s gonna be all right, but for now, don’t do anything stupid and have some fucking protein, dipshit.”

Richie leaned forward and bumped foreheads with his brother, the two of them taking a breather before Seth pulled away, shoved the foil package into Richie’s hand, and grabbed his gun.

He was a lot more settled now, he’d admit that much. This was something he knew, something he was comfortable with. This was the job as it had been before, without a snake coiled around the dark parts of his brain, fangs flexing, tail rattling, a woman’s voice constantly present in his ear. It was almost pleasant to be pointing his gun at people right now.

“Richie? Hey, Richie?” Seth snapped his fingers in his brother’s face and Richie almost went to lick them just to be obnoxious, until he remembered where they were. Brotherly habits did not make for threatening hostage takers. “She’s down at the pool. You should go get her.”

“Who?” Richie said. Seth gave him a baffled look.

“Uh, the girl who’s bra you’ve been fucking fondling for like, the past five minutes,” Seth said. Richie looked down at the delicate, stripy lace-and-cotton bra in his hand. Where had he even found it?

He turned it over and over again in his hand. It felt warm. It was…kind of nice, actually. There was a good, solid softness to it, and some squishy foam bit inside. Was this what a girl’s bra always felt like? This was fantastic, if he could just—

“When you’re done!”

Richie made a small, disgruntled noise and threw the bra at Seth, leaving the room in a sulky flutter as Seth swore. As he passed, he could’ve sworn he heard the son laugh, but he didn’t make a point of it. Might as well let the kid get his kicks while he can.

…

Kate rolled over in the water, twisting around underneath the pale blue surface with a rushed, careless pleasure that skimmed over her thoughts as easily as the water over her skin. For a few bubbly seconds, she could forget her father’s red, whiskey-rimmed eyes and the tight, frustrated turn that had started to weigh on Scott’s mouth.

Kate dipped down, pressed her feet against the bottom, and pushed up just enough to somersault in the water, sending a rush of air in her lungs topsy-turvy so that bubbles rose in her throat like champagne, floating from her lips as she forced her way up out of the water, glistening and golden, laughing free and weightless. It was like nothing she’d ever felt, a rush of air that shook her chest in a way breathing could never before, unbidden and casual and full of life.

The remnants of the rush made her glow, blinking in the sunlight, which was why at first, the man in the dark suit before her seemed like sunspots.

He hovered, hesitant, like a mirage over asphalt at the gates of the pool. Kate could see the water reflecting light off his glasses, and, blurry, an image of herself. She shifted in the water, kicking her legs, and the light source changed. The man had beautiful eyes, wide and teary-blue.

Richie held his breath and watched blood spill from her back, pooling out in the water beneath her like yarn being unspooled, loop after loop until it was a pile of tangled remnants at the bottom, spreading spirals of crimson out further into the pool.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth. He spoke like he was in a dream; slow and thick, but without any apparent effort. He rubbed his jaw, trying to make the hazy feeling quit prickling at his eyes and mouth, but to no avail.

“I—yeah,” the girl said, kicking her feet out. The dream faded, and she was splashing around in the pool shining in the sun like nothing had happened.

When she swam to the ladder and climbed out, Richie was struck by a memory of a story. The selkie-wife, her sealskin shed by the shore when the mood struck her. Why a simple, uncomplicated creature like a seal would ever want to be human had never been adequately explained to Richie. Still, if she did, and a fisherman stole her skin, he held her hostage and raped her, made her bear children and keep his home while she wept at the windowsill for the ocean. And when she left, her children would be grabbing at the space where her hand had once been, forever and ever, mouths wailing with a hunger bread and milk could not satisfy.

No, wait. Stop. That wasn’t it. It couldn’t be, because he’d found the book in a school library as far as he could recall, and a Kansas school library would never ever have a book with marital rape in it. Besides, that wasn’t a happy ending, and he liked happy endings for kids in storybooks. It wasn’t like they could get them anywhere else.

So. Maybe the story went more like this. The selkie-wife came to shore and danced free of her confining skin with no hands and feet, and when she found a beautiful man with big, kind hands and an even bigger, kinder smile she gave him her skin and settled down with him, had a little tight-knit family in a house not five steps from the docks, where she could watch ships move to and fro in the ocean waves with a child on her lap, safe and content in the knowledge that she’d given up everything that trapped her so she could get everything she wanted. Maybe—

“Richie,” the girl said, making Richie jerk his head up, “could you help me take this off, please?”

Her hands were on the thin, colorful bikini straps again, and her smile was warm and full of promise.

 _Selkie-skin,_ Richie thought and reached out a hand—

The dream broke and he moved his hand for his gun, a bitter rush of frustration clouding his throat. Stupid, stupid dumb remembering—

Speaking of stupid dumb remembering, a little voice reminded him, there’s two little boys on that sidewalk over there with their mom, just like you could’ve been before you became the kind of man that takes little girls hostage.

 _Fuck you,_ Richie told the voice, very firmly in his opinion, before he took out a pack of cigarettes instead and lit one.

There was a little tiny voice beside his shoulder shortly after, like a flower just starting to bloom.

“Could I have one of those?”

He passed it to the girl without a word, lit it for her, and met her eyes.

_Oh._

“You have beautiful eyes,” Richie said, his heart fluttering in his chest. They sparkled, wide and shiny. They looked better on her face than inside his hand, that was for sure.

“Thanks?” she said before she coughed, sticking the cigarette back in her mouth and inhaling sharply. A surge of warmth lit up his body, a rush of affection for the way her stubborn fingers clung to the cigarette as she sucked on it, practically biting it in two with her teeth.

“Didn’t your daddy tell you never to do this?” he asked, hoping it sounded fond. It ended up coming out thick and husky, the rasp in his voice startling himself. She raised her eyebrows, just a little.

“Do what?” she said, cocking her head, still holding the cigarette. A few ashes dropped from it onto her toes, and she flinched in pain. Richie had the sudden, dizzying and wild idea to drop to his knees and clean them for her, splash cool water on the burn and look up at her when he was done for her favor, her eyes a high point, hovering overhead and judging.

“Talk to strangers,” he said, because anything would do if he could shake off this horrible sinking feeling of _knowing._

“You’re the one offering cigarettes to little girls,” Kate said, and he laughed.

“Fair point,” he said. “But you asked.”

“You could’ve stopped me and said, oh no miss, pretty ladies like you don’t smoke, how about I get you a soda instead,” Kate countered. Richie smiled, a small tight gesture to force his physical self to move past what his brain was telling him.

_It’s the only way, Richard. Either this—_

Another vision, his hands wandering over bare breasts, a soft, pale back, the body under him writhing, shifting and changing. With each thrust, the woman moaning in his ear changed.

_—Or we have to go back to the first plan, Richard, and I know you don’t want that. Not for her, do you?_

He didn’t need a vision of the little girl laid out on the bed like Christ on the cross, her eyes gouged out and stigmata torn into her hands, holy holes that wept blood for a goddess’ freedom, but he got it.

“ _No,”_ Richie said aloud, his head throbbing. There was a warm little hand on his shoulder, and he could feel her soft skin through his suit.

“Mister? Are you okay? You’re not dressed for this heat,” she said, her voice sliding over his burning thoughts, turning the visions into cool, murky memories, half remembered.

_Richard, you can’t ignore me._

_Not now,_ he warned, lifting his head. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’ve been having migraines lately.”

There was a change in her expression. _My momma got migraines too._

She hadn’t said it aloud, so it sat under his skin, her voice burning in the back of his head, branding his thoughts with the memory of what she sounded like forever. He welcomed it. Her voice was soft and good and gentle, and it was keeping him steady. Still. It was practically rotten with pain, soft and heavy and falling apart.

“You sure you’re okay?” Richie ventured. She sat on the pool chair, her legs crossed, staring out at the surface of the pool, shimmering blue and gold.

“You ever feel like you’re just—I don’t know. In a car flipped upside down? Like everything’s changed and you’re suddenly a lot worse off than you were before, and you don’t know how you got there?” she said.

“All the time,” Richie replied. Her words came with visions, like a ghoulish synaesthesia that said, _here is her momma flipped over on the side of the road, bleeding out and dying in a car crash, and her daddy screaming and screaming and someone tearing her open, fresh and wet._

“I’m glad,” Kate said. “I mean, uh—no, I mean…that it’s not just me. Not that I’m happy for you hurtin’ or anything.”

“I get by okay,” Richie said with a shrug, sitting down next to her. “You want another cigarette? You’re not inhaling.”

“Well, I never smoked before,” Kate said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Only a little,” Richie said, and she smiled. It spread like a flower in his chest, petals extending to reach for the sun, in the hopes it might burn itself alive.

“Sorry I wasted one of your cigarettes,” she said

“Wasn’t a waste,” Richie replied, leaning back in the seat. “Got to watch you smoke.”

His hand throbbed, a dry, itching pulse scraping against the circle of wounded flesh. His skin felt like scales, withering under the bandage. Kate cocked her head.

“I’m still real sorry,” she said. “Do you smoke much?”

“No,” Richie said. “Just when I need to.”

There was a pause. Her chest rose and fell. It was such a small, delicate chest, like a bird’s. He couldn’t help but think of the bra, back in her hotel room. It had been so soft and gave way so agreeably under his fingers. Would her breasts do the same?

“You seem like a nice girl,” he said, like this would stop him from going to hell. She snorted, playing with the cigarette in between her fingers.

“How would you know? I could be a terrible person,” she said. “I could, um…steal from the church box. And take toys out of toy bins for poor kids. And steal candy bars.”

“Given that’s your scope of terrible, I think it’s pretty safe to say you’re a good girl,” Richie said. “I pick up on this sort of thing.”

“Is that the only thing you pick up on?” Kate said, turning her head and raising her eyebrows, just a little. “That and underage girls?”

Her words were sharp, but her eyes were soft, and she leaned in closer when she said it, her eyebrows cocked and waiting, like she expected him to laugh rather than deny it. She was closer now, that was definitely for sure, because he could smell the pool water on her, blue and crisp and chlorinated.

“That would be despicable,” he said, inhaling as much smoke into his lungs as he could, smiling wide and casual and hoping his heart hammering in his chest wasn’t so loud she could hear it from this new distance.

_She wants you, Richard. She’s offering. It would be so simple if you just—_

_Whoa, okay, hold on. How do I know you’re not…doing some mind control voodoo stuff on her to make it happen? If you want me to, you know, so bad—_

_Because I can’t do that, Richard. I don’t have that power. The only person who wants to have sex with you right now is that girl._

The phone beside her rang, a noise he had never been more grateful for in his entire life. She turned to look at it and he watched a trickle of water run down her pale neck.

“You should pick that up,” he said. She shrugged, a sudden tightness to her shoulders as she glanced down at her knees.

“It’s my dad,” she said. “And I don’t wanna talk to him. Not right now, at least.”

Something sharpened, stiffened, started to stink of smoke in the pit of his chest. His ribs were like thorns, bristling with concern. “You got a problem with your daddy?”

She looked up at him then. Something about his voice when he spoke those words made her heart stop. His eyes were sleepy, calm and casual on the surface, but the look was deeper than that, much deeper, and Kate was aware as she held his gaze that whatever lurked under that surface seethed and churned with wild, fierce darkness.

“It’s just—y’know. I’m a teenager,” she said, fumbling for a cover. It wasn’t enough. The look didn’t recede. “It’s okay. He doesn’t beat me or nothin’. He’s a good daddy, really. It’s just—“

“It’s something deeper than that,” Richie said. “Something that really hurts. Because, I mean—I saw you. Before. In the water, like a selkie. And you were bleeding, in big waves of red that all spilled out. There was so much hurt there. So much suffering.”

Her eyes widened, just a little, her irises big and wet and vulnerable. His chest ached, and somewhere in the midst of that pain, he reached out to take her hand without thinking.

She gasped and he jerked his hand back, his fingers twitching. “What, what? I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“No, come here, please,” Kate said, and he put his hand in her lap without a word of protest. His fingers flexed a little, searching. He could feel the pulse in her thigh even as pain throbbed in a ring around his wound.

Kate ran her fingers down his wrist and over the wrappings, scraping frayed, sticky cotton, tacky with dried blood, raw-smelling and moist with healing flesh. Richie didn’t move.

“You some kinda traveling preacher?” she asked, picking his hand up and turning it over. She traced the lines out across his palm, her fingers skimming the scabbed halo in the center of the bandages. “Out here with that suit when it’s so hot. Kinda like a bible salesman, handling snakes.”

“Couldn’t really handle a snake with this,” Richie said. “’Sides, I don’t sell bibles. I just…see things, that’s all.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Well…you’re scared, right now. And upset and hurt and confused, and because of all that, you’re mad at your father,” he said. “You’re in a new situation and it’s shaking you up inside.”

She bit her lip and he watched the motion, the pale hints of teeth on her soft pink flesh. “That sounds about right, mister. I mean…my daddy’s in a bad way. We all are, I mean. Me and my family. Something really bad happened to us, and—and I don’t, uh, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this—“

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers,” he said, curling his hand around hers even as the wound screamed in pain, hollering so loud it could have had real teeth. He barely noticed. Her fingers were so soft and little, and her nails were so neat and short and delicate. How would they feel if they dug into his skin? “Besides, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

She gave him a look that made his chest ache, his heart throbbing in tune with the wound she held in her hand. A little smile, and then she said: “My name. It’s Kate.”

He laughed, tight in his throat. “Ah, see, now you’ve gone and ruined the whole thing.”

_Did you think it would have been easier to have her if you didn’t know her name, Richard?_

_Can you not do this right now?_

“Richard,” he said, squeezing her hand in his.

She traced the wound again, a frown on her face. “Richie?”

It struck him like a spear in his side when she said his name, her words so visceral they could have been blood in his mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s—yeah.”

“This is a real bad wound, Richie,” Kate said, a frown tilting her mouth as she stroked her thumb over his bandage. “You really should change the bandages at least.”

“It’s okay. Just did an hour ago,” Richie mumbled. The pain from the wound and the hazy bliss of her fingers probing his skin had swirled together like a mixed drink, and he was suddenly too drunk on it to speak. “S’fine, really.”

“An hour ago? This is—this is so bad, you shouldn’t really—you oughtta get to a hospital, quick,” Kate insisted. “Richie?”

“It’s fine. We’re gonna find a doctor in El Rey,” Richie promised. Kate wrinkled her nose.

“Where?” she said.

“El Rey. It’s…a golden place. It’s good. The land of kings and honey and stuff,” Richie said.

There was a pause. He worried at his lip and then turned to look at her. “Do you…want to come with us?”

Kate swallowed. He could see her throat shiver, her breasts heaving in her wet suit, just a little. “Is it beautiful?”

“The most beautiful place in the world,” Richie said. “Except for here, I think.”

“Why here?” Kate said, running her thumb along his. Their pulses matched and he licked his lips as he counted the beats.

“Because it’s warm and the pool is blue and you’re right here with my hand in your lap, which is really nice,” Richie said. She looked down and smiled at nothing. It warmed him all the same.

“Well, um….I see,” she said. She went back to stroking his wound. It had stopped hurting by now, all his insides loose and liquid.

“Do you know what a stigmata is, Richie?” Kate asked. Richie shook his head.

“No. Is it a religious thing?”

“It’s a _holy_ thing,” she insisted. “It’s the wounds of Jesus on His cross. He had, uh—holes in His hands, from the nails. You know, they normally just tied people to crosses, but they nailed our Lord ‘cause—cause, um, I don’t remember. But He had holes in His hands and feet. And He showed them to His apostle Thomas to prove He had truly risen from the dead. It’s where we get doubting Thomas from. You know, as a phrase.”

“Is that right?” Richie said. “Wow.”

The phone rang again. Kate rolled her eyes and tucked it in her towel. “I think I’m dry. Do you…want to go someplace else?”

“Where?” Richie asked, though he was pretty sure he didn’t actually care. Anywhere with her would be good right now.

_Richard…it’s time, Richard…she wants this. You don’t have to be afraid._

_You could be lying to me._

_I would never lie to you about a woman’s heart,_ she promised him. _You can only take what is given. Have no fear._

“Someplace a little quieter,” she said, looking at the boys splashing in the pool. “Maybe some place with bandages?”

Richie nodded. She lifted him up off the seat by the hand, his whole body following after her, and he let her lead him off the patio without a word of protest, towards the shadows near the hotel rooms.


	2. Pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here comes the deep hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I feel like the summary says it all, but, uh, if for some reason you're uncomfortable with sex, don't read this chapter?

In the end, he picked the lock of an empty room and played it off like theirs. She didn’t seem to notice, going into the bathroom and rifling through it for a first-aid kit.

_I can’t do this._

_Please, Richard. You have to. I—I need you to do this for me. Save me. Set me free, Richard, please…_

_You won’t hurt her,_ he said. _This won’t…kill her? Kill Kate?_

_No. I will not harm a hair on Kate’s head. I simply need some space to…to, how do I put this? Become real. Full. Free._

“Richie?”

He looked up. Kate was kneeling at his feet, taking his hand in hers and stroking his bandages. “There’s some gauze and Neosporin in this kit. Won’t fix it permanent, but…”

“You shouldn’t—it’s a nasty mess—“

“Ssh, ssh,” Kate said, hushing him like he’d spook. Which was fair, because her hand touching his bandages, unwinding them slowly, made him want to run out of the room and fling himself off the balcony. “Sssh, I’m not scared. I saw pictures of my momma after the accident. I can—I can handle it.”

He didn’t protest, because the stubborn set to her jaw was one he recognized whenever Seth really was going to put his foot down about something stupid. Her fingers were delicate and gentle as she dressed the wound, and he was so focused on the feel of them that it took him a few minutes to realize that she was crying.

“Kate?” Richie said, his voice weak. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. Don’t…don’t be afraid.”

“I’m _not,_ dummy,” she said, her voice thick with tears, “it’s just—you’re in so much pain!”

Richie wanted to laugh, wanted to kiss her, wanted to do more and more until he had every inch of her body committed to memory and the light of her soul kept warm and snug and safe under his skin. “It doesn’t hurt so bad. You make a good nurse.”

She made a face at him and he did smile, watching her bandage the wound back up and wind firm medicinal tape over it that ripped and creaked as she unwound it.

Once the wound was bandaged, she sat back on her heels, looking at a job well done. She looked at him. He looked at her.

“Richie,” Kate said, and if he climbed off the bed or she simply grabbed his shirt and pulled him down on top of her, he wasn’t sure. Someone had moved and now their bodies were wound together. He could feel her underneath him, the space between her thighs throbbing and hot.

He’d never kissed anyone. Kate had, occasionally, behind the church practicing with clumsy tongue. It wasn’t pretty, but it was warm, and not too wet. She broke away first, heaving in panic.

“Kate, it’s okay, we can—“

“No,” she said, wiping her mouth. “We just—have to go sit on the bed, please, this carpet itches—“

He picked her up into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’m serious, this is—I’m so sorry, please understand—“

Richie laid her down on the bed, the springs squeaking as he slid his hands down her belly. “God, you’re so beautiful. But, there’s this—I need to help someone, see, um—a friend of mine, and…it’s magic. Kind of. I have to—“

“You _are_ a traveling preacher,” Kate marveled as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottom and pulled, the wet fabric sliding down her thighs and leaving streaks. “I knew it. Snake charmer.”

_Of a sort._

_Literally don’t right now._

“It’s kind of like that,” Richie agreed, unbuttoning his shirt. “I—really wouldn’t be doing this otherwise, oh my god, can I explain?”

He stripped, sliding his shirt and jacket off, kicking off his shoes and socks before he went for his belt. “It’s a ritual thing. Like, some weird innocence kind of thing. Um. I haven’t had sex. Ever. This is—shit. Shit, shit. But I have to help my friend—“

“Richie,” Kate said, sitting up in the bed and taking her own bikini top off, tossing it playfully at his head, “shut up and come here. I don’t mind why you want to. I just—really want to.”

This was wild, reckless, and terrible. But her daddy had driven them down to the border, half-drunk the whole time and putting them in real danger, and that was worse, right?

Besides, he wasn’t lying. He was as much a virgin as she was, that was plain. That made it okay. He wasn’t some sleazy cheap fake. There was a light from God in his eyes, she could see it clear as day. And he really, really did want to touch her. And she really, really wanted to do the same to him.

“I know, but I have to—“ Richie’s hands slid up to her breasts, cupping them, kissing the valley between them, down her ribs and to her thighs, burying his face into her vulva, his tongue dragging up her lips once, twice, before he kissed them quick and pulled away. “No, see, it’s—you’re so beautiful, and this is all going to go bad real fast—“

“Doesn’t have to,” Kate said, tugging lightly on his hair. He looked up and her breath caught in her throat. God, if that was love, she didn’t care if this was a cheap hotel room. Anywhere she could get that kind of look from him was a good place. “Didn’t you say something about El Rey?”

Richie cocked his head and looked at her, long and hard. Part of her wanted him to put his lips back where they’d been before—another, larger part of her wanted to look at him like this forever, just before the precipice they were both standing on gave way and she jumped.

“Yeah,” he said, letting her slide his pants down, pulling at his briefs until his cock was free. “Yeah, Kate. I’m gonna take you there, okay?”

“Yes,” she said, and his mouth covered hers before she could scream, which was just as well.

_Thank you._

Kate stiffened, shivering, Richie’s hands sliding down her sides shaking and stroking. There was sweat gathering between them, and a dry, sharp pain in her pelvis.

“Richie,” she said, “please, move a little?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, nudging his forehead against hers. His hips shifted and she felt him pull out, the pressure hissing out of her body like an unscrewed valve. “Is it—is it bad?”

“No!” Kate promised, “it’s, um—really big. And that’s kind of weird, ‘cause I’m not used to…I’m so sorry, I’m so bad at this—“

“Please don’t apologize,” Richie said, kissing both her cheeks before he kissed the corner of her mouth, light and soft. “I love this. You feel perfect, okay? You—you’re perfect. Thank you.”

Kate nodded, reaching up to grasp at his back. He moaned when her nails dug in and she smiled, shaky and relieved. The throbbing pain had faded, replaced by a sense of alien fullness. Not quite pleasure yet, but something dangerously close. “You’re welcome. Could—could I have another kiss, please?”

She was worried he’d laugh, but he just shook his head, his slicked-back hair falling in sweet dark strands along his eyes, crinkling as he smiled. “As many as you want, Katie-cakes.”

She went stiff, her fingers still on his back—but only for a second. It was warm, and soft, and fond, and that mattered more than the strange coincidence of shared nicknames, because that’s all it was, and his lips on hers were so much more.

He kissed slow, lingering closelipped pecks, a rhythm opposite his thrusts, so the sensations his body had sparked inside her could burn nonstop. When Kate sucked on his lower lip, curious, he opened his mouth in such a quick, shocked way—like he’d never considered the openmouthed kisses Kate gave him, sucking hard on his lips, stroking his tongue with her own. His rhythm stuttered, became sloppy. The pressure in Kate’s body softened, ripened, split open.

“Richie?” Kate whispered, pulling away to press her forehead against his. Richie moaned softly, a full-body shiver.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“Nothin’. I just like saying your name,” Kate said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Richie, Richie, Richie— _Richie—“_

“Oh my _god,”_ Richie moaned, pulling out of her with a groan of frustration. “Shit, _shit,_ I am so _sorry—“_

“Richard,” another voice said, low and raspy and gentle, “don’t be.”

Richie paused, sat up, cupped Kate’s cheek. “…Kate?”

“And not Kate,” she said. “I’m here, Richard. You set me free. Thank you.”

“You said you wouldn’t—hurt—my Kate, please—“

“I will not,” she said, blinking, drawing into herself. The shocked, haughty gaze fit on Kate’s face like a pair of jeans three sizes up. “It will be easier for us to communicate this way. Once you’ve crossed the border, I can leave her head and all will be well.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Richie said, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ. This is—“

“Satanico Pandemonium.”

“…Wow,” Richie said. “I take it back. That’s the coolest name in the world.”

She cracked a thin little smile that looked all wrong on Kate’s face despite the tender look in her eyes. After a pause, she slipped her hand down her belly and touched her clit, frowning.

“Richard, you didn’t even make this body come,” she complained. “I thought—“

“Look, I’ve never done this before, okay? I didn’t exactly expect to—“

“It’s fine, but a little foreplay? I mean, her breasts are gorgeous. Small, but exquisite.”

“ _Please,”_ Richie said, his face flushing. “I know, so if you want I could—“

“Oh no, we don’t have the time,” she said. “The _Rinche_ is coming. Get back to your family, Richard.”

“Okay,” Richie said. “Kate? Are you still in there?”

A waver, a ripple of perception, like a girl diving into the pool with a small splash, and her eyes looked up at him, wide and innocent and soft.

“I’m still here,” she said. “Richie, that was _amazing.”_

Richie smiled, tight as a grimace, kissed her on the corner of her mouth and said, “Get dressed. We should…go find your hotel room.”

Kate followed him out of the room with a dazed smile. Richie wouldn’t, couldn’t add _like a lamb to the slaughter,_ but this was self-evident.

…

Kate kept looking at him throughout the whole plan, which was much worse than if she hadn’t. Even worse since she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t mad about the guns, or his brother, blustering something. She just looked _sad._ And _scared._ He wanted to _protect her, he did—_

“Kate,” Richie said, “it’s all right. Don’t—don’t worry. You’ll come with us to El Rey, right? You’ll—“

“My daughter is not going anywhere with you!” Jacob protested, and Seth would have said something if he hadn’t just whipped around and given Richie a blank look, mouthing _what the fuck_ as Richie glared at him.

“Kate, it’s going to be okay,” he promised, standing up as if to move to her side. “Seth—“

“Okay, first off, shut up, please, because I have shit to do, so you can argue with me about your arm candy later,” he said. Richie gave him a filthy look. Seth rolled his eyes at him, big and cartoonish. “Go, _padre,_ get the fucking car. Richard, you’re with Scott. I’ll leave with Kate.”

Richie opened his mouth to protest, but Kate’s shake of her head, though practically imperceptible, had him sitting down with a frown.

Five minutes passed with the four of them in the room before Kate looked at Richie. “Richard? It’s time to go.”

Seth blinked, brows raised at the change in voice, but he didn’t protest, because his brother’s face had gone white, and he rubbed at his temples with an intensity that vibrated in his fingertips. “Fuck. Okay. Come on, Scott.”

Scott looked at his sister and then back at Richie with an overwhelming lip-curling disgust that practically filled the room, much bigger than himself. “Fine.”

Richie slipped out of the room and Scott, fists clenched, followed him. There was a calm, casual silence for all of two seconds before Scott said, “If you did anything to my sister, I don’t care if you shoot me in the head, because I’m going to fucking murder you first.”

“That’s the spirit,” Richie said vaguely, rubbing at his eyes, his fingers reaching underneath his glasses and scraping at his brow bones. “I didn’t do anything to your sister she didn’t want, Scott.”

“ _What?”_ Scott said. “I’m—sorry, _what_ —“

Actually being faced with the idea that Richie _had_ done something wasn’t what he’d prepared for, so he settled for filing it away in the back of his head to remember for when he really did have his hands on a gun.

“Yeah, you should be. No reason to be so rude about it,” Richie mumbled, his glance flicking down the hallway, searching for the van, for the _Rinche,_ Satanico’s warning rattling in his ears.

Behind him, Scott made a face, mimicking his words silently and rolling his eyes, big and exaggerated, but Richie didn’t mind in the slightest. It was entertaining, and oddly Sethlike.

Besides, he had bigger problems to worry about right now. And so did Seth.


	3. Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth is great at handling things. Totally. Really. No problems here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this on unofficial hiatus because I'm not sure where I plan to go with it. But at the very least, I can give you the work I DO have, so it can be enjoyed. Thank you for understanding; my feelings on this fic are complicated, you know?

Kate shifted uncomfortably on the bed, back and forth between her thighs as the thin pebbled cotton scraped at her bare skin. She shouldn’t have worn a skirt. Stupid. It was the first thing she’d found and she was shaking so much it was just easier to pull on than pants.

“Kid,” Seth said, hovering over her, his look oddly paternal despite the gun in his hand, “you okay?”

She looked away from him and shifted again. Something was wet between her legs. Girls on the playground said you always bled your first time. But it didn’t smell like blood. Smelled like something else.

“My brother, he,” Seth hedged, taking a step back. “He didn’t…hurt you? He didn’t do anything…bad to you?”

Kate fiddled with her nails, praying with all her heart that even though she felt like a dirty low-down sinner right now Jesus would pity her and reach out like he did with Mary Magdalene. Just long enough to strike Seth Gecko dead.

“Look, kid, he’s been really off his rocker lately and I’m worried, if he hurt you I’ll deal with it, but just tell me—“

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about Richie that way!” Kate hissed, standing up with a rage she’d never felt rattling in her bones like rustling scales. “He didn’t do _anything_! You—you leave him _alone_ , you—you fucking _bully—“_

“Oh my god,” Seth said, quietly, probably mostly to himself. “Preacher’s daughter deigns to use the f-word on me. Aren’t I fucking lucky.”

“He didn’t do _nothin’,”_ Kate snapped, her accent becoming fuller and thicker by the minute, like hair rising on the back of an angry cat, “and you can just—he ain’t _crazy,_ he’s _blessed—_ he’s got Jesus’ wounds in him—you—you _bullying jerk—“_

“He’s not crazy,” Seth agreed. “Blessed, I don’t think so either. If he was, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He gestured to her with the gun. She flinched and he jerked it away. “Look, hey, I’m asking for _your_ sake, kid—did you screw him? Did he make you? ‘Cause if he did, I’m going to fucking beat the shit out of him for it, I promise.”

Kate went back to shifting on the bed, curling her toes and trying not to feel like she was holding in the urge to pee. It wasn’t _quite,_ but that tense, liquid fullness near her nether bits was making her nauseous. She looked away from Seth and bit her lip, trying not to think of Richie’s shining eyes, full of awe, glimmering like the sun atop pool water when he looked at her.

"Okay,” Seth said, “let’s pretend you’ve admitted the incredibly obvious fact that you had sex with my brother. Let’s pretend I’m not deeply, deeply concerned about the fact that he had sex with an underage girl—“

“I’m eighteen—“

“Holy shit, please, don’t do this,” Seth said. “Let’s pretend he didn’t fuck a _still teen-aged girl_ and that you and I both agree that if he did, because he did, that would be the worst low-down despicable fucking thing my brother ever did, ever.”

“You killed people,” Kate mumbled, drawing her brows together and frowning. Seth rolled his eyes.

“People who were trying to shoot us, so like, okay, sure, we shot some people, but we didn’t fucking rape the damn corpses, because you don’t _do that,_ you don’t shoot innocent people and you _don’t hurt girls,_ and— _ugh,”_ Seth rubbed the side of his face. “Fucking shit, we don’t have fucking time for this! I just need to know—“

“You don’t need to know anything—“

“Did he use a condom?” Seth demanded. Kate flinched. He crossed the room, pressed his forehead against the wall, and swore for an unbroken solid minute, a blue streak that cut the room in two.

“I didn’t say nothin’—“

“You don’t have to, princess, ‘cause it’s all over your fucking face—I’m going to _murder him—“_

“I didn’t mind!” Kate protested against the burning panic that churned her stomach up like a pig over a spit. “You got no right to be mad, I said I wanted him and _I did_ so—so—“

“He’s still inside you,” Seth said, his voice quiet. “You don’t even know, do you? You literally have no clue about how sex works. Which is great, fucking phenomenal, because my brother doesn’t either. Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

He gestured to her with the gun again. “Stand up. Come on, let’s go.”

Kate did, her thighs trembling, and when she did something slid past her soaked panties, damp and warm, and she prayed to God and all his angels that it was just blood.

“See?” Seth said, his voice quiet and gentle. “God, I can’t believe him. Fucking idiot didn’t even try to clean you up after.”

Kate bristled, her fists clenched at her sides. “At least Richard did what he was _told,_ Joseph, which is _more than you can do!_ I had him tell you to take the van around the damn back, so don’t blame me when the _Rinche_ comes down on your head!”

Seth blinked. “What the _fuck_ —“

Before he could interrogate Kate, his vision cleared—when had it blurred? How had he heard her so clearly with only one good ear, like she was—in his _head_ —

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “We gotta go. There a bathroom in that car of yours?”

Kate nodded, tears sliding down her face. Seth grimaced and rustled through his suit pocket, pulling out a square of rough gauze and pressing it in her hand. “You should probably clean yourself up.”

Kate held up the gauze, baffled. Seth frowned. “And we oughta stop past a pharmacy along the way, hold some people up for some Plan B real quick—do you even know what that is, princess? Nah, you’ve never had a pregnancy scare before, have you—“

“Doesn’t matter none,” Kate said, her voice thick and clogged with tears, “momma said first time you don’t get pregnant.”

Seth opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Closed it, thought better of it, opened his mouth, then thought better of _that,_ then closed it again.

He beckoned Kate out the door and down the stairs, and for the next twenty minutes he spent fleeing across the Dewdrop Inn, debated how the hell he was going to lose his entire goddamn mind on his brother rather than considering the Texas Ranger tearing after him like hell on his heels.


End file.
